Vihaan and Arya stepped out of Neha's cabin, making their way down the hospital corridor toward Ashvi's room. The air was thick with tension, each step Arya took feeling heavier than the last.
As they entered the room, Arya's gaze immediately landed on Shreyansh.
He was seated in a chair, his head bowed, fingers curled around his injured palm-blood still smeared against his skin, dried but not treated. The torn flesh was raw, yet he hadn't bothered to get it bandaged.
Arya inhaled sharply, her pulse quickening as hesitation took over. She froze, clutching the edge of her saree instinctively, the memory of their previous encounter clawing at her heart. The fear lingered in her chest-not just from his anger, but from the way she had seen him breaking.
Vihaan, noticing her hesitation, gently took her hand, guiding her forward with a quiet reassurance. "Come," he murmured, pulling her toward a chair.
Reluctantly, she sat down, her mind swirling with uncertainty.
Arya hesitated for a moment, her fingers curling slightly before she turned on her heels, heading back toward Neha's cabin. Without a word, she grabbed the first-aid kit, her movements precise, controlled-as if forcing herself to focus on the task at hand rather than the emotions swirling inside her.
With measured steps, she moved toward where Shreyansh, Vihaan, and Kunal sat, deep in conversation. None of them noticed her at first, their voices low, tense. But as Arya stepped closer, the air shifted, thickening with an unspoken tension.
Shreyansh's gaze flickered upward, his dark eyes locking onto hers the moment she reached them.
She paused.
For a second-just a second-uncertainty wavered in her posture. But then, she forced herself to sit in front of him, keeping her expression firm, unreadable.
She reached for his hand.
The moment her fingers brushed against his skin, he pulled back.
The rejection wasn't harsh, wasn't violent-but it was enough to make the space between them feel wider than before.
Arya's eyes sharpened, her brows furrowing slightly.
No tears. No hesitation. Just determination.
Shreyansh mirrored the same intensity, meeting her gaze head-on, neither of them speaking.
Yet-*their eyes were talking.*
A silent battle.
A conversation words would fail to contain.
Slowly-deliberately-Arya reached for his hand again.
"I don't-" Shreyansh started, his voice rough, uncertain, as if he himself wasn't sure what he was trying to say.
But she didn't listen.
Didn't allow him the chance to stop her.
Her grip was firm as she took his injured palm, ignoring the slight resistance, and began cleaning the dried blood.
Her fingers moved with care-gentle but unwavering.
And for the first time, neither of them fought.
Just sat there.
Hands intertwined in silent understanding.
Even if they were too stubborn to admit it.
As she carefully applied medicine to his wound, Shreyansh's eyes remained fixed on her hand.
YOU ARE READING
𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞💕 ( 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞)✔
Romance"She was his everything-until she became his assassin." Shreyansh loved Arya with his whole soul. But the woman he trusted most shot him and walked away. Now he's back. Alive. And hell-bent on revenge. But they're not the only ones tangled in love...
